The Hogwarts Games
by TheHonourableSkye11
Summary: You know the drill. Every year, each district will supply one boy and girl to fight to the death, et cetera. However, this is not that Panem. This is a Panem that had discovered magic, and thus their tributes are to be granted access to their own wands for the Games. A typical Harry Potter Hunger Games fic. A romantic subplot. Harry/Luna.
1. Chapter 1

**Well, here is the official tribute list! The first chapter should be up soon, but for now, I'll let you know who is taking part. I have to stress that anyone can die. I really could kill anyone, from Marietta Edgecombe to Harry himself. You just don't know. You can see the tributes down below, but for now, I'll give a brief introduction. First of all, I've noticed that most HP/THG crossovers feature normal weapons, but I really wanted to make this a Wizarding competition. Magic is what makes Harry Potter, and so all characters will be able to do some. Secondly, I'm not decided on the arena type for this story. Please leave a review or shoot me a PM with a suggestion of you have one! I'll consider every entry. That is, unless you suggest, like, inside an active volcano or something like that. Thirdly, there will be no Hunger Games characters in this fic. Not one. All HG characters will be replaced by HP characters. Fourthly, if you've written a similar fic, and I accidentally steal something from you, it was not intentional. If I take something from a fic intentionally, I'll give credit and try and get my readers to check out the referenced fic. Alright, enough rambling on my part. Here are the tributes:**

 **District 1: Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson**

 **2: Blaise Zabini, Astoria Greengrass**

 **3: Vincent Crabbe, Millicent Bulstrode**

 **4: George Weasley, Angelina Johnson**

 **5: Neville Longbottom, Lavender Brown**

 **6: Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley (brother and sister. Poor Mrs. Weasley)**

 **7: Terry Boot, Luna Lovegood**

 **8: Michael Corner, Cho Chang**

 **9: Anthony Goldstein, Marietta Edgecombe**

 **10: Cedric Diggory, Susan Bones**

 **11: Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbott**

 **12: Harry Potter, Hermione Granger**

 **Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour.**

 **God bless**

 **Skye**


	2. Chapter 2: The Reapings: Part One

****Chapter 2: The Reapings: Part One****

 ** **Alright, here is the first actual chapter. I'll be following all 24 tributes in this fic, from first-person, like in Suzanne Collins' work, but in past tense, as I find present tense to be incredibly weird. I'll also be changing the ages of each character (as in Hogwarts they're largely the same) I'll be beginning with the reapings, and go by district (i.e. Districts 1-12 in that order). I'll be doing two or three districts per chapter, for the reapings, I think, so that I don't take a couple of weeks per chapter! First up, District 1. Draco and Pansy! Then District 2. Blaise and Astoria! And then… Well, you get the picture.****

 ** **Oh, and of course, there's this:****

 ** **Disclaimer: I am not secretly in possession of the rights to either Harry Potter or The Hunger Games. All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and the setting belongs to Suzanne Collins. If I magically wake up as either, I'll let you guys know.****

 ** **The Reapings Part 1****

 ** **District One****

 ** **Draco Malfoy - 18****

I shy away as my mother fitted a suit on me. After all, I was a Career. I wasn't some little child from District Eleven, taking mommy's help to get ready for the reaping. But I didn't deny that the suit looked nice, with the emerald-green fabric and black tie, complete with green serpent pin, a token of my family house, but the fact that I needed to wear something fancy was the issue I had. I was in the reaping, not in a bloody pageant.

However, I realized the importance of my appearance. Districts One, Two and Four were always favourites in the Games, and people were more likely to sponsor us if we looked like rich kids for some reason. Probably because it resembled the Capitol's wealthy standards.

"There, that should be perfect!" beamed my mother. Narcissa Malfoy was a rude looking woman, with long blonde hair and an upturned nose, but she cared greatly for me, so I couldn't fault her for a few less attractive qualities.

"You look wonderful, Draco," she added, smiling encouragingly. "You've waited years for this, son, so you'd best look good for it. It's a big day!" She hurried around busily, as if today was not probably the last time she'd ever see her son. After all, the Games were the end result for me, win or lose. I'd known that for years. Me and the rest at the training centre. I knew Pansy was also going to be volunteering this time around. She was a year younger than most volunteers, but more determined than anyone.

"We'd best be going," my mother said, glancing at the clock on the mantle. "The reaping starts soon. Go and grab your father, will you, Draco?"

I obliged, heading down the marble hallway. I darted into a doorway on the left, coming into a vast study, complete with miniature library. My father, Lucius, who also happens to be the mayor of District One, is dozing in his desk chair, head lolling.

"Father?" I inquired quietly. He didn't stir. "Father?" I raised my voice a little.

He started, glancing up at me. "Ah, Draco, is it time?"

"Yes, father," I said. "The reaping is almost here, father."

Yes, I said 'father' a lot. Lucius demanded respect, but was loving enough if he got it.

"Very good, Draco," he said, glancing up at a clock. "I'll be along."

 _This could be the last day I ever see you, father,_ I think reproachfully at his bored manner, but don't dare speak.

"Yes, father," I said, and left. In the main room, my mother was still busying herself, humming quietly. My father eventually emerged from his study, looking around. "Well, should we be off?" he said.

"Yes, we should," my mother answered. "The last thing we want is to be late for the reaping. I couldn't take the shame!"

 _Probably not,_ I thought.

"Very well, then, let us be off."

My father took his coat from the peg in the foyer, and without another word opened the door and strode outside. My mother and I shared a look, before we followed him. I took a deep breath. Today was the most important day of my life.

 ** **Pansy Parkinson - 17****

I thought about what I was doing. Was this the right idea, volunteering a year early for the Games? After all, the other Careers would be a year older than me. I would be the youngest. And, I didn't mind admitting, the last thing I wanted was to be in the same Games as Draco, who, I admit, I was already a little in love with.

Alright, a lot.

Anyway, my father, Cassius, smiled at me as I twirled in front of him and my mother. My dress was simple, with its lilac colour and floral pattern, but pretty enough. You also did not want Capitol sponsors to think you were simply a beauty queen. While some of the young men might sponsor you that way, most would think you were weak.

"You're so beautiful, darling," my mother said, with tears in her eyes. She's right, of course. I looked stunning. I always did, but this dress was something else. It was magical.

"I just hope you don't have to take part this year," my mother added. "You won't be volunteering until next year, and you need the extra training."

I looked away guiltily. I hadn't told them yet that I was planning on volunteering one year early. I'd only told Draco and a few other trainees. My parents may not be able to take the news.

"Pansy?" inquired my father. "What's the matter?"

I only just realized that I was avoiding eye-contact. I put on a sad look. "I hope you're right. I need the training." That didn't mean I'd be waiting, however.

My father glance down at his watch. "Well, it's now or never," he said. "I personally don't feel like waiting for Peacekeepers to come and rouse us from our humble abode. We should be going."

My father herded us out the front door, and we set off at a leisurely pace down the cobblestone streets of District One. My father is silent while we walk, but my mother, Merida Parkinson, chats wildly. She doesn't expect me to volunteer, but something in my father's eyes told me he knew exactly what I was planning. He studied me carefully, and once it looked like he shook his head ever so slightly.

I saw the town square up ahead, and I take a deep breath. This was my time. I was born for this. There was no turning back from here.

 ** **-Draco-****

I was standing with the eighteens, gazing boredly off. I know what was coming. It doesn't really matter if I miss the reading of the Treaty of Treason. We _know_ what happened, for goodness sake. Yes, somebody rebelled, blah, blah. That was a very long time ago, and it really had no effect on the Games now.

I stood to attention, however, when Severus Snape, our most famous victor, strided out onto the stage. He looked rather intimidating, with his black clothes and sinister sneer. Normally we had two mentors, but the Games had been changed, so that each District had only one. Something about levelling the playing field for the outlying districts, who had, like, one victor in the entire district. It was stupid, but what could you do? We still crushed them every year.

Out walks a lady dressed in flowing green robes, and she smiled brightly at the crowd. "Well, should we begin?" she asked playfully, and a number of people laughed. Nobody was nervous. In District One, if you were drawn, you didn't need to worry. There was always a volunteer. If you didn't plan on volunteering yourself, there was no danger.

The lady strode forward. "Well, ladies first, I believe is the tradition. Shall we?"

 ** **-Pansy-****

I held my breath as the lady reached into the glass sphere containing the names of the possible tributes. She rips out a piece, and held it up for everyone to see. Not that anyone could read a name from that distance, but because she loved the power she held over everyone.

"The female tribute for District One is… Tabitha Bainbridge!"

I saw a young girl, probably no older than thirteen, looking around frantically, desperate for volunteers. When nobody immediately stepped forward, she stumbled towards the stage. That was when I made my move.

With my chin high, I stepped forward. "I volunteer as tribute!"

The crowd went silent. It was a normal occasion, but they would be surprised. I was only seventeen. Younger than the average volunteer.

Tabitha Bainbridge looked relieved, and she gave me a look so thankful I thought her head might explode.

"Well, well," said the lady in green. "Up you come, my dear."

I ascended the stairs, my head still high. Everyone was watching me, which I certainly liked, and nobody spoke.

"Well, well," said the lady again. "What's your name, dear?"

"Pansy Parkinson," I said calmly. I saw my parents head out in the crowd. My mother looked stricken, and her mouth was hanging open. My father, on the other hand, nodded slightly. He looked saddened as well, but it occurred to me that he had already guessed my intent, and braced himself against the shock.

"Well, Pansy," said the woman cheerfully, "it is wonderful to have you. Not an uncommon occurrence, of course, in District One, but still lovely to see some of you so eager to compete! A big round of applause for Miss Parkinson!"

The crowd clapped loudly. They were used to this, but they still liked seeing someone eager to play.

"Well, please make your way over to stand with your mentor, Mr. Snape." She motioned at the man in black, who didn't look at evil as normal. He actually nodded at her, and his sneer was less pronounced than before.

"Well-" began the lady.

 _Did she begin every sentence with that word?_

"Now for the boys!" she finished.

 ** **-Draco-****

I stood to attention. My only fear was that my name might be called out, and thus someone may volunteer in myplace. In that case, I would miss my only chance to compete, as next year I would be past the age limit.

The lady in green plucked a name from another glass sphere and raised it to eye-level.

"Ahem, the male tribute for District One is… Graham Montague!"

A brutish boy, who looked more than half like a troll, emerged from the crowd, looking shocked, but not in a bad way. He strode forward, looking actually pleased. He glanced around, and glared at the crowd, as if daring anyone to volunteer.

I, of course, had no intention of staying back. I stepped forward and called out in a loud voice: "I volunteer as tribute!"

Montague swung around, and the fury in his gaze almost made me take a step back. But the rules were clear, and he couldn't do anything about it. He stamped back into the crowd, shooting me one last look of hatred.

"Another volunteer!" squealed the lady in green, as if this wasn't normal for District One. How wonderful! Come up, child!"

 _Child._ I hated it when people call me that. I felt the urge to smack this lady rise within me, but I fought it down. That would hardly get me sponsors.

"What's your name?" she asked. She knew it; my father's the mayor, but she had to ask.

"Draco Malfoy," I said, and I looked out over the crowd. People were looking happy, actually. They knew I was strong, and had a good chance of winning the Games. They all wanted District One to do well, and knew I was the best man for the job.

"Well, well, well," said the lady in green. She didn't appear to know any other way to start a sentence. "The mayor's son. How do you think your father thinks of this?"

"He'd be proud, I hope," I said, casually shooting a glance to where my parents were standing. My mother beamed at me, and my father nodded in acknowledgment.

"Well, good luck to you two!" the lady in green exclaims. Please join Miss Parkinson and Mr. Snape.

As I turned to join Pansy and Mr. Snape, I noticed the look on my fellow tribute's face. She looked to be close to tears. She nodded in acknowledgment, but didn't meet my eyes. I glanced up at Mr. Snape, but he just nodded at me.

Pansy and I shook hands, as was custom, but she didn't speak, and I almost thought I heard her sob once. Only once, but it was clear and bright.

What was that about?

 ** **District Two:****

 ** **Blaise Zabini - 18****

My mother smiled proudly at me. Her blue eyes sparkled in the faint candlelight, contrasting against her dark skin, which matched my own.

She finished adjusting my leather jacket, which was not common garb for a reaping, and stepped back. "Oh, Blaise," she said, tears forming in her eyes. She knew, of course, that this might be the last day we ever see one another. I was planning on volunteering.

Our mansion, the largest in District Two, was always empty apart from us. We didn't have any servants, even though we could have afforded them. My mother and me lived alone. Her latest husband had died a few months earlier from salmonella, and the funeral had taken place a week later. Since then it had been quiet. So very quiet.

I wondered why my mother married every year or so. She was reputed as the most beautiful woman in District Two, and there was good reason. With her chocolate hair, perfect skin and sky-blue eyes, she was the picture of perfect. Men practically lined up at her door on Valentine's Day, delivering flowers and chocolate. Her latest lover, one Ignatius Prewett, had only been around a couple of months before his chicken was undercooked, and thus poisoned. My mother had the worst luck. Her husbands kept dying, but she just kept getting married. I guess she longed companionship, the kind of which I couldn't bring.

These thoughts ran through my head as we wandered down to the town hall, in front of which the reaping was to take place. I knew it was the last thing I should be thinking about at the moment, seeing as I was going to be shipped off to the eighty-sixth Hunger Games. It really didn't matter who my mother fell in love with. I probably wasn't going to see her again, because I knew that my chances of surviving the Games were slim. Sure, I may be the best in there, but still, with twenty-four of us, what were the odds I make it out?

I almost wish I could forget the Games, but I was raised for this. I'd be hated by my district if I didn't compete, as I was one of their strongest fighters in years. Since Cato had won the seventy-fourth Games, we hadn't won once.

I loved District Two. With the mountains, and the familiar people, it was a wonderful place. And of course, there was Flora…

Flora Carrow. I loved her more than I could have put into words. I knew that I would likely never have the future with her that I wanted if I volunteered, but I couldn't do anything. People would probably kill me if I didn't volunteer. Still… some part of me longer to ignore the call for volunteers and just stay here, stay here with Flora. Maybe propose in a year or so.

But that wasn't possible. Flora wouldn't appreciate it, either, if I dropped out. She'd call me a coward, and probably leave me there and then, so there was no point.

We arrived in the square, and I went off to join some other eighteens, who were milling around boredly, waiting for the ceremony. I looked over to the girls, and found a face I was looking for. If I was to go, I wanted her to know how I felt. Hopefully they'd let her visit me when we were shipped off.

As the man took the stage, I tore my eyes away from my beloved, and turned them on the stage, towards my destiny. Towards what I had been training for my entire life.

 ** **Astoria Greengrass - 15****

I laughed nervously as my father fiddled with my shirt. He kept pulling down the sleeves further, and then fluffing them out, which pushed them back up.

"Dad, it's alright!" I object, but I wasn't annoyed. I was just amused.

"It's a big day," he muttered, and I catch the resentment in his voice. I know my father was an outspoken opponent of the Games. It had gotten him into trouble once or twice before.

"Dad, it's alright," I said again, but I wasn't speaking about my shirt at this time. "There's nothing you can do, and besides, the odds of me or Daphne being picked are small. Very small." Daphne was my older sister.

"Still, though," he muttered, shaking his head. "Despicable. It's just… a joke, that's what it is. A sick joke for their laughter."

I stepped forward and hugged him, both because I loved him and to shut him up. "It's alright," I said, for a third time. "It's just part of living here. And besides, even if one of us gets picked, there are always volunteers. When was the last time there wasn't a volunteer from Two?"

My father thought about that one. "The seventy-first," he said eventually. "That Wilkins girl."

"Didn't she win?" I asked.

My father sighed. "Yes, she did."

"Exactly. Even if I _was_ picked… I'd still stand a pretty damn good chance, don't I?"

My father didn't reply, but I saw the fear subsiding in his eyes.

"We should be going," I said, and he nodded. My mother wasn't able to assist me getting ready, as she worked in the town hall, the employees of which were needed to pull off the reaping. We'd be meeting her there.

I wasn't nervous. District Two always has volunteers, and my name is only in a few times. The odds of me being chosen are about as good as my Dad becoming president.

We exited our little house, small but comfortable, and by no means unpleasant, and headed down the street. The cobbled stone beneath my feet was cold, I felt it through my shoes, and I wished we lived in a warmer District. My father hummed quietly to himself, a tune as old as the hills themselves, and he looked much more cheerful than just a few minutes ago. My sister, Daphne, darted out from an alley. She had been with her boyfriend, Harper, and had arranged to meet us on our way. She had perfect timing, really. Absolutely perfect.

We entered the town square, and saw the crowd already assembled. Me and Daphne parted with a smile, and my father went to stand with the adults in the crowd. I headed over to the fifteens, smiling at my friend Saphira, whose blonde hair rippled in the pale sunlight. She smiled back, and I feel comforted. She was in the Academy, and thus would be volunteering for the Games in a couple of years. The thought didn't sit well with me.

A young man, dressed entirely in black, took the stage, looking far more cheerful than his attire. He smiled widely at the crowd, showing perfect teeth.

"Welcome, welcome! Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!"

 _They are,_ I thought. The odds of me being picked were miniscule.

The young man read out the Treaty of Treason, while the listening crowd zoned out in boredom. They all knew it. It wasn't like President Riddle continuously amended the treaty.

"And now!" he suddenly announced, jarring everyone awake. "The tributes from District Two!"

He walked over to a glass dome, and picked out a name at random. I hoped with all my being that my name wasn't on there. True, even if it was, there would be a volunteer, but I'd rather not push my luck.

"Ahem," said the young man, and he looked at the name written. "Daphne Greengrass!"

I froze. _No!_ It couldn't be! I glanced around frantically, praying for somebody to volunteer. Daphne strode forward, a tear trickling down her cheek. She looked terrified. She was almost at the stage when I realized that nobody had yet volunteered. What was going on? I glanced around quickly. Nobody stepped forward. Not a soul.

There's nothing for it. I took a deep breath, stunned at this unexpected turn of events. "I volunteer as tribute!" I called.

The crowd went silent. Daphne spun around, horror replacing her terror. "Tori, no!" she yelled at me.

The crowd parts silently. Daphne didn't move. "Don't!" she hissed, shocked and horrified at my decision.

"Well, now," said the young man on stage. "And Mr. Slughorn told me there were no female volunteers this year! How wrong he was!"

"Tori, why?" begged Daphne, shaking her head frantically. "Don't!"

"I'm not losing you, Daph," I responded, fighting back tears myself. Of all the eligible tributes in District Two, this idiotic young man had to pull out my sister's. _And_ there were no female Academy volunteers this year.

"Well, I'm not losing _you_!" she yelled, hysterical. "Tori, you can't!"

I ignored her. I didn't mean to be rude, or anything, but I have to go up on stage. The young man is looking expectantly at me.

"Fantastic display," I heard him mutter. "Well done, girls."

I glared poison at him. "Shut… up…" I hissed, but he didn't seem perturbed. I stomp over to join the District Two mentor, who was looking haughtily at the drama. She acknowledged me with a nod. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself, and trying not to meet my sister's eyes.

 _You've just condemned yourself to death,_ I think to myself. _Nice going._

 ** **-Blaise-****

I watched with interest as the drama unfolded with the Greengrass sisters. I knew Daphne. Her boyfriend, Harper, was a close friend of mine. I'd met Daphne a few times. She was rather nice, and I felt sorry for her, and for her sister. I cursed under my breath. It was always the nicest people who had the rottenest luck.

The young man who was drawing names smiled kindly after Astoria as she joined the District Two mentor: Bellatrix Lestrange. But he quickly turned back to his job.

"Aaaaaand now for the male tribute!" he called. He shot his hand down into the glass sphere, pulling one out.

"Ahem... The male tribute for District Two is... Marcus Flint!"

A rough-looking boy with an upturned nose strode forward. He didn't look upset or pleased. He almost looked disinterested. I guessed he knew what was coming.

I stepped forward before anybody else could. "I volunteer as tribute!" I called.

The crowd parts routinely. This was normal. I strode forward towards the stage, but I glanced sideways at Flora as I went. She wasn't meeting my gaze, looking instead at her shoes. I felt bad putting her through this, but there's nothing for it. I'd been training for this my entire life.

"What's your name, kid?" asked the young man on the stage.

"Blaise Zabini," I replied confidently.

"Ah, yes, Zabini," said the man, a dreamy look coming over his face. "Carmen's son?"

"Yes," I said. Really, this guy had to be at least fifteen years younger than my mom, and he was also taken with her beauty.

"Oh, well," he said, looking disappointed. "Tell your mother I said hello. If you would join Ms. Lestrange and Ms. Greengrass, thank you."

I walk over and join Astoria and Bellatrix, the former of which didn't look up as we shook hands, and the latter gave me an appraising look. It was awfully uncomfortable.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," said the young man cheerfully. "I give you the District Two tributes!"

 ** **Thank you for reading. If you are wondering, Tabitha Bainbridge is real; she appeared in the**** ** _ **Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban**_** ** **video game only, but she is real. I used her for the drawn tribute because there aren't many random Slytherin girls in either the books or the movies, and there's still a couple of Slytherin districts to go.****

 ** **Also, I couldn't get by Blaise without bringing up the subject of his 'legendary beauty' mother, whose husbands always ended up dead, leaving her with piles of gold!****

 ** **I know Blaise and Flora Carrow were hardly in a relationship, but he needs**** ** _ **some**_** ** **motivation.****

 ** **President Riddle - I know I technically stole this from JDon987's story**** ** _ **Harry Potter and the Hunger Games,**_** ** **and I give him full credit for his story, but it is an obvious substitution for President Snow, being Vol-, er, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and all.****

 ** **Thank you so much for reading. The next chapter should be up relatively soon. We'll have Districts Three and Four for sure, and possibly Five. Until that time, God bless.****

 ** **-Skye****

 ** **P.S. I'm not sure I'll be killing 23 of them. I might get too attached and not want to kill somebody. Give me a second opinion. Shoot me a PM if you think I should kill 23 of them, or turn them into some kind of anti-Capitol alliance. Or any other suggestion. I like getting suggestions, so help me out here!****


End file.
